St. Vincent Will Put Stars in Your Eyes, Save Your Soul | Live Review + Concert Photos | October 8, 2014 | The Beacham Orlando

by Dainon Moody • October 9, 2014

St. Vincent makes a comment not very far into her Orlando performance that seems altogether too fitting. After warmly welcoming the gentlemen as well as the ladies, she wins her loudest applause when she welcomes “everything and everybody in between.” Perhaps it’s because she identifies more with those occupying that gap—the ‘freaks’ as she calls them—than being either male or female. It’s an idea.

And it’s almost impossible to talk about her concert in Orlando without making mention of seeing her perform a short five years ago in Seattle. To say she’s participated in some kind of steady image overhaul since then is putting it lightly. Then, she was the pretty diminutive indie girl with the smudged bright red lipstick, dark hair and mind-bending guitar solos. Now, her confidence has been given some kind of colossal boost forward, and for good reason, too. Now, she’s the interpretive dancer/robot with metallic hair, talking in allegories and still, yes, absolutely owning that guitar. What a difference a few years make.

Recently, I read an interview about St. Vincent never wanting to compromise her sound, that, in the end, it was all she really had to cling to. And that was readily apparent. Switching out guitar after guitar, sometimes climbing to the top of a towered platform, syncing dance moves with her keyboardist, and even laying down while singing, there was so much happening on her stage, nobody knew when to escape to get a drink or head to the bathroom. We were all holding our breath. There wasn’t a safe time to duck away, because, when you watch the St. Vincent movie, you realize—and quickly—there are no lulls. You just want to see what she’ll do next, song after song.

St. Vincent was as comfortable singing her new songs (“I Prefer Your Love,” “Birth in Reverse”) as she was the not so brand new (“Actor Out of Work,” “Cheerleader”). Who really cares if you can’t sing or dance to it? She’s there to perform. And to hear people excited to scream out random outbursts of “I love you, Annie!” before she’d answer by launching into another screamer of a guitar solo.

You get the sense, in watching St. Vincent, that she’s totally enjoying this path, and why shouldn’t she be? No wonder they’re comparing her to Bowie. Singing behind a microphone and offering a cookie cutter concert experience isn’t enough for her. She needs to spread her wings and fly around a while. She needs to lead her minions in directions they’d not expected to go. And she does. And she did.

Could it have sounded a little better in there? Probably. Would it have been a little nicer to have the tiniest bit of elbow room? Most definitely. Still, if I were a betting man, I’d bet a whole $20 that every single person attending left fully satisfied with all they’d seen and heard.

If she doesn’t come back this way soon, count this guy surprised: out of all the shows I’ve ever seen at The Beacham (and it’s a big number, promise), I’ve never seen more people packed into that space than I did for St. Vincent. It’s fairly easy to understand why they came out in droves, too. Nobody in the music world is doing what she is doing right now. Nobody.